


Beyond the Threshold

by DoreyS (DoreyG)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Confessions, First Time, Frottage, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Threshold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:26:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27522256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/pseuds/DoreyS
Summary: Which leaves him all alone. Besides Jack, still sitting on his bed and whistling in an attempt at casualness.
Relationships: Jack O'Neill/Teal'c
Comments: 8
Kudos: 12





	Beyond the Threshold

After a while, and it is a good long while, everybody leaves him alone. Doctor Frasier excuses herself to go continue monitoring patients, and is soon followed by Hammond who needs to return to his job. Daniel Jackson follows them about half an hour afterwards, with an awkward but well meaning farewell that makes a strange warmth expand in his chest that is for once separate from his symbiote. Major Carter leaves another half hour after that, pausing briefly as she does so to wrap her arms around him and hold on tight for just a moment. Even Master Bra’Tac leaves in the end, with a brief clasp to his shoulder that says more than words ever could about how proud he is.

Which leaves him all alone. Besides Jack, still sitting on his bed and whistling in an attempt at casualness.

He is content to simply watch the man for a long few moments, take in the blessedly familiar lines of his face and dwell on just how close he came to forsaking him entirely. But when Jack finally draws himself up again, and looks at him deliberately, he knows that he cannot just satisfy himself with staring adoringly forever.

“I’m glad you’re alive, you know,” Jack says, deliberately shifting aside on the bed to make space for him. Not that big a space, he notes with some fascination, just big enough that their sides would brush together if he chose to take it.

“You have said.” He does take it, with barely a moment of consideration. Settles down besides Jack, even closer than he needs to, and feels the man take in a deep breath that is presumably meant to settle. “I must confess, I am rather glad to be alive too. Alive, and not still in thrall to a false god who deserves none of my worship.”

“I’m sorry for leaving you on that planet,” Jack says quietly, and when he glances over he sees that the man is looking at his hands with a complex expression upon his face. “I’m sorry for just abandoning you. I should’ve lingered for longer, I should’ve actually checked if anything could be done for you. I shouldn’t have just ran away, and left you to…”

“O’Neill,” he interrupts softly, and turns. Reaches out, slowly but surely, until his fingers can curve around Jack’s arm. “You were correct initially, I was dead. It was only Apophis’ sarcophagus that… Ah, saved me. There was no point in you sacrificing your own life, when absolutely nothing could’ve been done for me.”

“You say that, but…” Jack stares down at his hand on his arm for a long moment, and then heaves a heavy sigh and relaxes underneath his grip. “If I’d stayed, maybe Apophis wouldn’t have got ahold of you.”

“If you’d stayed,” he points out, in what Jack persists in referring to as his annoyingly reasonable tone. “I would’ve still been dead, and Apophis would’ve captured you too. And who knows what he would’ve done then, with two of his greatest enemies underneath his power.”

“I just feel like I could’ve stopped it,” Jack murmurs, his face creased in a far too familiar guilty expression. “I just feel like if I’d been a bit braver, if I’d been a bit more loyal, you wouldn’t have had to go through the whole kidnapping thing. Or the whole brainwashing thing. Or the whole weird creepy rite that apparently could’ve really easily killed you thing. If it wasn’t for me-”

“If it wasn’t for you,” he interrupts softly, and takes an even tighter grip on Jack’s arm. “I would’ve ended up permanently dead, and Apophis would’ve won at last.”

There’s a long moment of silence, as Jack continues to stare off into space. And then finally, very slowly, the man looks back at him with surprisingly vulnerable eyes. Like he’s finally willing to be open, no matter how much it scares him.

“You couldn’t have changed what happened on the planet, nobody could’ve. If you’d tried you would’ve just died alongside me and ended up in Apophis’ clutches too. And I can tell you for a fact, that would’ve been the only thing worse than what actually happened,” he says, as gently as he possibly can, and keeps up his ever so firm grip. “But you did change what happened to me here, and for that I will be eternally grateful.”

Jack studies him, narrowing his eyes now, and then attempts to take refuge behind a familiar smirk. “I don’t see how.”

“Do you know what brought me back at last?” He asks softly, and resorts to downright caressing Jack’s wrist when the man only continues to watch him narrowly. “The memory of the first time I saw you.”

To his pleasure Jack blinks a little at that, knocked from his projection of casual amusement into genuine shock. “You mean all of us, right? Me, Carter and Daniel?”

“Them also, you know very well that their friendship has meant an indescribable amount to me over the years, but I would be lying if I said that you weren’t the main one my eyes went to,” he says, so intensely that Jack blinks again but absolutely honestly. “I had felt hope before, in starts and flickers, but the first time that I saw you… It was the first time I knew what it felt like in more than a brief burst. I looked at you and I saw an entire glorious future stretching out before me. One where I was more than a slave supporting a false god. One where I could do something meaningful, actually help people instead of resigning myself to powerless misery forevermore.”

Jack swallows, seeming genuinely speechless for a moment. But doesn’t even try to glance away and hide the look in his eyes, even when he manages to find words again. “And how has that gone for you?”

He feels that they’re rather past the time for pretence. He reaches out, watching Jack’s face every inch of the way, and carefully curves his fingers around the other man’s jaw. “You know very well how it has gone, O’Neill.”

They stare at each other from close up for a long few seconds, both breathless and half disbelieving. To touch each other so intimately, after so long spent pretending that they didn’t even want to, seems almost taboo but at the same time absolutely right. He can’t help but notice every single intimate detail: the faint stubble scratching his palm, the tightness of breath in his chest, the way that Jack’s eyes remain inevitably fixed to him every single moment.

“It would’ve been bad,” Jack says abruptly, after a long few moments spent staring. “If you had died.”

“I agree,” he says calmly, fighting the rare urge to smile.

“Real bad,” Jack continues slowly, still staring at him with an unexpectedly tentative expression upon his face. Something that looks almost scared and almost hopeful all at once. “But it would’ve been even worse if you’d stayed enthralled to Apophis forever, turning away from all your real friends in service of a dick who didn’t deserve you. Who never deserved you, not even when you genuinely believed in him.”

“That would’ve, indeed, been unpleasant,” he acknowledges wryly, bowing his head briefly and trying not to let his horror at that very near miss how upon his face. “Not just the worship of a false god, but the idea of being permanently turned away from all that I cared for. Of being permanently turned away from you.”

Jack blinks again, more slowly this time. And then shifts even closer to him, urgent in a way that is both unexpected and flattering. “I realized something when you were like that, you know.”

“Oh?” He asks, and arches an intrigued eyebrow.

“Just how much it hurt to see you that way,” Jack says, and then hesitates a little as he obviously chooses what to say next. He can fully sympathise with that indecision, with the desire to get this moment exactly right now that it’s finally happening. “And how much it hurt to think of all the ways you could’ve ended up and just narrowly avoided. And how much it hurt in general, is what I’m saying.”

He knows what Jack is saying, but also knows the man well enough by now to know that he can’t push him into a final revelation. He sits there patiently, waits Jack out and finds himself hoping desperately.

“It hurt more than I think it would’ve with anybody else under my command,” Jack settles for eventually, and then makes a face like he’s not entirely sure that he’s conveying exactly the right sentiment. “And, uh, you _know_ how much I care for the other people under my command. You know how much the thought of any of them getting hurt just really, really… _Sucks_ for me.”

“I do,” he says solemnly. And finally shifts closer again himself, allowing his fingers to soften against Jack’s jaw and gently caress the unexpectedly soft skin there. “I realized something too, while I was stuck in such a state.”

“I didn’t know you could,” Jack says, trying for flippant but ending up so terribly hopeful yet again.

“You would be surprised,” he murmurs, and leans in until he can see Jack’s pupils dilate. Until he can feel the warmth of Jack’s breath, flooding so very temptingly over his lips. “I realized much the same thing as you, O’Neill. Just how important you are to me, and just how much it would hurt if you were no longer in my life.”

They stare at each other from close up for a long few moments, both breathing shallowly. He feels a certain sense of awe at being this close to Jack, at being allowed to touch him so intimately. Here he can count every single eyelash, here he can see the in and out stutter of Jack’s breath, here he can feel at peace for the first time since Apophis took him and tried to shape him back into the unacceptable form he wore before he discovered a different way.

He’s not sure who moves first, he suspects that they might both lunge forwards at the same time, but it’s hardly a surprise when their lips slot together. It’s awkward for a moment, their noses bumping and the both of them tentative, but soon their natural instincts kick in and things get at first better and then glorious. Before long there is only the slide of Jack’s lips against his, the tentative tease of Jack’s tongue, the desperate gasp that Jack gives as he pushes deeper. Jack Jack Jack, _Jack_.

“I couldn’t bear to lose you,” Jack says in one of their brief breaks for air, and gives a shaky laugh that is probably meant to sound confident but instead sounds anything but. “Pretty pathetic, huh?”

“I don’t think so,” he murmurs in reply, and peppers little kisses across Jack’s lips in between every single word. Tiny sips, as he does his very best to drink the man in entirely. “After all, I couldn’t bear to lose you either.”

Jack groans at that, and then looks a little embarrassed at the intensity of his reaction, and then obviously decides to lay any attempt at dignity aside and lunges at him for another full on kiss. He thought the first was desperate, but this is a whole new level. Jack kisses him with an intensity that he never thought possible, like he wants to sink into him and never be parted ever again.

It would be impossible not to respond, when given such ample provocation. He finds himself leaning even more intensely into Jack’s body, bearing the other man down onto the bed underneath him. He expects this, if anything, to bring Jack back to reality and have him shying away. But no, Jack merely groans into his mouth this time, and then shifts until he can be pressed onto his back instead of awkwardly borne down onto his side.

“Jesus Christ, keep doing that. I haven’t felt this way about anybody since my wife,” Jack groans in another pause in the kissing, arching up against him eagerly when he testingly rolls his hips down, and then freezes for a second and bites his lip. “Speaking of which…?”

“Yes,” he says calmly as he continues to gently roll his hips down, knowing exactly the direction in which Jack’s thoughts are tending. “I did think of my wife while I was dreaming.”

There’s a long pause, and then Jack props himself up on an elbow and gives him a slightly narrow eyed look. “Not gonna lie, that’s not entirely what you want to hear when you’re making out with a guy.”

“I thought of her in the way that I thought of all my past. A fonder memory than most, I will not lie, but still one that is firmly part of who I used to be.” He expected this reaction, but he did not expect his desperation to make Jack understand. He reaches out, cups the man’s jaw in his hands and meets his eyes intensely. “Which is what we both agreed, the last time our paths crossed. She is my past, you remain my future.”

He expected at least some hesitation, at least a brief pause. But instead Jack’s eyes softened just a little, a sign of the man’s deep and instinctive trust in him. “You’re still that sure, huh?”

“Yes,” he says, very firmly.

Jack gives a wry smirk, but that vulnerability is still there in his eyes. So raw, so deeply wonderful. “Some future.”

“The best,” he says solemnly, meaning it so absolutely that his breath is taken away by the intensity of it, and leans in to kiss Jack again the moment his expression creases and he starts to laugh.

Their kiss was already intense, both of them fully throwing themselves into it with a desperation that was to be expected after so many years of denying themselves, but it soon got more intense still. He bears Jack fully back onto the bed, slots their hips together and starts thrusting with a determined level of absorption. He suddenly, or not so suddenly because he has the feeling that this has been building for a good long while, wants to take the man apart entirely.

Jack seems entirely pleased with this idea, which is rather flattering. He draws back for a moment to pant, but instead of speaking again he reaches for the bottom of his shirt. He sits back to allow Jack to draw it off of him, unable to resist the urge to flex his muscles a little under the man’s questing fingertips, and then bends down to return the favour. Soon their bare chests are pressed against each other, and he finds himself enjoying the sensation of flesh against flesh most incredibly.

Neither of them are the types to stop there now that they’ve started, though. Before long Jack’s fingers are slipping underneath the waistband of his pants, caressing the skin there in a rather pointed fashion. He feels no need to hesitate, reaches down one hand to roughly yank open his belt and then undo the buttons. It doesn’t take much to shove the pants down over his hips, and then follow them up with his underwear and leave himself completely bare.

Jack makes an eager noise into his mouth, rolling up desperately against bare skin, and then a rather more pointed noise a few seconds later. He takes the hint, reading the man as well as he ever does, and reaches down to deal with Jack’s bottom half too. He’s wearing the same cargo pants, and so the process is largely similar. He can’t resist dragging his fingers down the tender skin between Jack’s cock and his hip as he pulls them off, however, and receives a noise that is practically a growl for his efforts.

He pulls back for a moment once they’re both completely bare, to allow his eyes to meet Jack’s and see what awaits there. But when he sees only eagerness, and tentative affection so long hidden, he immediately leans back in and claims the man’s mouth again. They kiss like that for a long few moments, grinding against each other slowly as they get used to the sensation of being entirely naked together.

Jack breaks from his lips with a little moan, eventually, and arches up just enough so that his lips brush against his ear and his half-hard cock slides temptingly across his stomach. “You can fuck me, you know. I definitely wouldn’t mind.”

“Tempting,” he says, honest yet again, and turns his head just enough so he can kiss Jack properly again. “But not tonight.”

“Come on, I’m not Josephine,” Jack murmurs, butting their noses together in an imploring way. And then pauses at his obvious confusion, smirks in a slightly rueful way. “Which is to say: I know you want to, I definitely want to and so why shouldn’t we fuck like rabbits while we have the chance?”

“I may not be a doctor, O’Neill, but I do know that you’d need significantly more lubrication before that was anything close to comfortable for you.” He props himself up just slightly, takes a certain pleasure in how Jack chases his lips with a needy whimper. “”I don’t wish to hurt you, not even in the slightest way.”

Jack pouts a little, obviously meaning to look deliberately ridiculous and tempt him that way. “I can take it.”

“But you won’t,” he retorts calmly, keeping just far enough away that Jack can’t reach him easily from where he’s pinned on the bed and attempt any maneuvers to change his mind. “Because I not only do not wish to hurt you, but wish to worship you instead.”

There’s a long moment of silence. Jack, usually so very adept at keeping the shield between him and the rest of the world up, looks downright stunned at somebody speaking to him so very tenderly. His mouth opens several times, and then closes quickly. His forehead wrinkles into a frown. His eyes go incredibly wide, and then narrow as if he’s trying to figure out what exactly his play is.

“Like a god?” He settles for eventually, trying to keep his tone flippant but ending up sounding just as vulnerable as he looks.

“Like you,” he answers, quite simply. And when he sees a certain melting in Jack’s eyes, a desperate vulnerability that provokes a fondness that he’s been trying to hide from for so very long, he leans in again and seals their mouths back together.

They grind together desperately now, actively seeking more pleasure instead of just being content with the brush of naked flesh against naked flesh. He starts off slowly at first, not wanting to overwhelm his partner with the strength of his ardour. He is content to feel the touch of Jack’s flesh against his, the ripples of Jack’s muscles underneath him, the way that Jack slowly but surely falls apart under the onslaught of his touch.

Jack is quite obviously content too, although is also quite obviously longing for more of his touch. The man shudders underneath him for a moment, overwhelmed by the grind of flesh against flesh, and then starts moaning again. He soon props himself up on his elbows, and starts participating in the kiss more actively as their bodies glide and catch together. His mouth is desperate, a brand and a plea all at once.

He has never been able to resist Jack. It is no surprise that he is even less able to resist him now, when they are both trembling with the force of their desperation. Before long he starts to kiss the man more deeply, starts to thrust with significantly more of a sense of purpose. He soon becomes obsessed with the way that their cocks catch together, with the way that the seemingly simple slide of their bodies sends pleasure sparking all the way through him.

Jack is obsessed with it too, seemingly to a degree that even exceeds his own absorbed focus. The man clutches on to him tightly every single moment, hard enough that the symbiote will probably have bruises to heal once they are done. He moans ever more loudly, with a desperation that makes him increasingly more glad that the insulation in this base is sound. He keeps rolling his hips up with an endearing neediness, driving them ever faster on every single thrust.

He obliges. For of course he obliges, there is no possible reason not to. He drives down into Jack brutally with every single thrust, takes eagerly what the other man’s body is offering and returns his passion tenfold. He thought that he had largely forgotten what it was like to lose himself entirely in lovemaking, but with Jack so responsive underneath him he quickly finds himself rediscovering the joy of it.

Jack is very quickly growing overstimulated, desperate for more. He is still quite obviously eager to be penetrated, the pointed jerks of his hips prove that much, but seems even more eager for more pleasure in general. He holds on to his arms as tightly as he can, basically pulling himself up with every thrust. He desperately chases more friction, with a single minded focus which suggests he is but a step away from pleading for it.

The thought is an interesting one, the idea that Jack is capable of moaning desperately for him and only him, but one to be explored at a later date. For now he indulges the silent plea, grinds down against Jack for an aimless moment more and then reaches a sweaty hand between them and closes it around both of their cocks.

Jack’s reaction is instantaneous, and most gratifying. He makes a noise that he never thought a human throat could produce, practically arches himself right up off the bed in his attempt to get closer. Before long his hand snakes down between them too, his fingers intertwining slightly clumsily with his as he turns the grasp into an intimate almost embrace.

It is slightly more difficult than he expected, but that has been his entire life since he met Jack and he has not regretted it yet. He adjusts his grip just slightly, so Jack can hold on more smoothly, and then steadily starts to move his hand in time with his thrusts. He is determined to bring them both pleasure, but Jack most of all. Suddenly the idea of seeing the other man entirely fall apart, due to his hand and his touch, is the thing that he wants most in the universe.

It isn’t long before they’re moving perfectly in time, Jack as focused on their mutual pleasure as he is. Before long the speed of the jerking of their hands moves beyond careful slowness, and up to a fast pace that neither of them are entirely in control of. Before long they’re both slicked in sweat, and trembling, and making desperate noises that just can’t be controlled. The pleasure is intense and absolute, consuming them in a wondrous heat that he never really thought himself capable of experiencing again.

He can feel himself starting to fall apart, starting to unravel more and more with every single thrust. The loss of control should feel terrifying, coming so soon after Apophis stole into his mind and attempted to take everything from him, but instead this time it feels absolutely freeing. Perhaps because he is choosing this, perhaps because he is more fully himself than he has ever been. Perhaps because every thrust against Jack’s body, every time he hears his name on Jack’s lips and feels the pleasure inevitably surge as a result, feels exactly like coming home.

Jack is falling apart too, more certainly by the minute. The pitch of the noises he’s making has increased in volume, creating a sweet crescendo that sounds like music to his ears. He keeps holding on tighter and tighter, leaving heavy bruises on his flesh that should hurt but instead merely feel wonderful. His entire body keeps shuddering so sweetly, like he’s right on the edge of letting go in a way that he’s never once allowed himself before.

And…

Jack is the first one to come, tumbling over the edge with another one of those inhuman voices and a brutally hard clutch of the hand still on his shoulder. He feels sticky white come, so similar to his own spend and yet so very different at the same time, coat his fingers and groans in time with Jack as he comes down from his high. It seems a very pleasant one, he has never seen the man’s face look so blissful or relaxed.

He’s not quite there himself, but he can feel his orgasm close and tantalizing. All he can do is continue to thrust down against Jack’s body, continue to try and consume the man beneath him in every single way he can. He wants to reach his peak, but he also wants this to last forever. It’s a strange contradiction, but one that makes perfect sense with Jack lying so lax beneath him.

Jack has always had an incredibly fast reaction time, though. It is, indeed, one of the many reasons why he admires him so much. Before long the man stirs beneath him, and then lifts his hands from where they were loosely spread out to grasp firmly at his ass. He holds there for a second, indulging in what he has sometimes heard humans refer to as groping, and then moves to grasp tighter and urge him ever closer in the most glorious of ways.

He comes like that, held so intimately by Jack. And for a long few moments all he can feel is the other man’s body against him, and rolling pleasure, and a feeling of peace so absolute that he wants to wrap it around him like a cloak and carry it with him for the rest of his life.

In the aftermath he flops down, and lands happily on Jack’s welcoming body. Jack makes a pointed ‘oof’ sound, rolling his eyes in an exaggerated manner, but holds on to him tightly when he attempts to pull away. They lapse there like that for a long few moments, intimately entwined together and both intent on savouring every single moment of it.

“Still like the look of your future?” Jack asks eventually, his voice casual but his eyes tender when he twists his head to see the man looking across at him.

“Even better now,” he says absolutely sincerely, feeling a sense of peace that has so long evaded him. And then leans in, slowly but surely, and joins their mouths together again with a certain sense of joy surging in his chest.


End file.
